Ultimatum
by Fleet Sparrow
Summary: The name "Wayne" holds a sense of entitlement, a sense of power, and the insistence that its demands are always met.  The youngest Wayne knows this well and will stop at nothing to get what he desires...in every sense of the word.
1. Prologue

What better way to jump into the Batman-fanfic world than with heavy drama? Well, actually, there are probably lots of better ways, but you really don't see me planning things out very well.

I began this after AmberSpirit's request for more Damian/Dick (the idea just wouldn't leave!). It's been very challenging to write a character I don't have copious experience with, but it's very exciting, too. Any mistakes I make with characterization, or helpful hints, are greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: The established relationships are Bruce/Dick, (mentioned: Barbara/Dick, Roy/Dick, Kory/Dick), and, the over-arcing/developing Dick/Damian. I don't want to offend anyone with this story, so if there's something you absolutely hate about the pairings in it, don't send me a rant or claim I'm going to hell or whatnot. I'm not forcing you to read this.

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><p>He was ten when he first heard the rumors, the slight whispers between the girls, the sideways glances from Drake, the crude comments from Todd. He brushed them off. Grayson was, maybe, too affectionate to Father, but that was just his way; Grayson was like that with everyone. It was nothing.<p>

He was twelve when he first noticed the brushes, the touches that lasted just a hair too long, the looks that held a little more than they probably should have. Damian didn't say anything–it was probably just his imagination–but the odd clenching in his stomach was a bit disconcerting. He'd just have to ignore it. It was nothing.

He was thirteen when he realized the stomachaches weren't illness; they were jealousy. At first, he thought it was because Grayson was getting the attention _he_ wanted from Father, until they happened when Grayson was around other people. It wasn't Father's touches and signs of approval he wanted, it was Grayson's. Whenever Grayson was with someone else, just being his casual, free-loving self, Damian felt his stomach twist and knot on itself, his fists clench, and his jaw tense. But he smoothed them out, keeping the petulant-child act going as a cover. Because, really, those feelings were nothing.

He was fourteen when he "accidentally" caught them in Father's bedroom. He had begun to suspect that there was more to Grayson's relationship with Father than they let on, so he installed a couple of micro-cameras in Father's room. Every night he watched his recordings, he cursed himself for not installing microphones, too. There was probably something wrong with him, he thought, for watching them so often, but it wasn't like he was watching both of them–only Grayson. Whenever he watched, he always supplanted Father with himself. It was probably very wrong, he was sure of it, but he didn't care. It was nothing.

He was sixteen when they became more blatant about their relationship. Every time he saw them touch or kiss, he wanted to kill something. He acknowledged his jealousy fully; there was no need to hide from it any longer. The fact that Grayson had become no less loving and affectionate to him infuriated Damian. How could the man have so much love to share? How dare Grayson split the love he should be giving to Damian? He wanted Grayson for himself, not to share with anyone, not Gordon, not Harper, not the Tamaranean, not _Father_; only for Damian. It was time to act. It was no longer "nothing".


	2. Ultimatum Sent

Here it is. I apologize for how short this is and how long the update time was (I'm trying to do about one chapter every two weeks, possibly sooner), but with finals and a nice move home from college, things got a little crazy. The next chapter is going to be fairly short too, but the chapters after will get longer as Damian's plan begins to execute itself.

Thank you all for the kind reviews and I hope you enjoy.

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><p>Bruce was training on the dummies. Punch. Kick. Slam. Repeat. Damian leaned against a broken dummy-frame and watched him.<p>

"Father. May we talk?"

Punch. Kick.

"Of course."

Punch. Kick.

"What about, Damian?"

"Grayson."

Glancing punch.

"What about him?"

"I want him."

The punch took the dummy's head off.

Bruce stopped and closed his eyes, relaxing his heart rate and preparing himself for the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

Damian watched with a slight smirk in his eyes; Bruce was keeping his back to him.

"Just what I said. I want him. I want him, and you have him, so I'm requesting that you give him to me."

"He's a _person_, Damian, not a _thing_. I can't _give_ him to you because I don't own–."

"But you _do_. You own everything about him. He does anything you tell him to do. So give him to me."

"Damian," Bruce turned around, "I'm not discussing this with you. If you want a relationship with Dick, you have to talk to him."

"He'll say no."

"Then you'll have to respect his–"

"He'll say no because of _you_, because he's _yours_. I really don't ask for much, Father; all I want is Grayson."

"Damian, this conversation is done." Bruce walked toward the showers.

"Very well, Father. I was _trying_ to be polite and give you a choice. I'll get him, Father, even if I have to fight you for him."

His words still hanging in the cave, Damian went back up to the manor, leaving Bruce to brood over his threat.


	3. Ultimatum Planned

Well, this is awkward, isn't it?

I honestly _totally_ meant to have these chapters up faster, but, you know how life goes. Anyway, I was really sick of seeing this thing just lurking and staring at me from my files, so I just went ahead and finished it. I know shorter chapters should equal shorter waits, but I'm apparently taking the Valve school of thought with this one. Sorry about that, Chief.

Anyway, standard disclaimer: I make no money off this so there's no copyright infringement.

Hope you enjoy!

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><p><em>One can never succeed without a plan.<em>

If Damian was going to claim Grayson as his own, he had to do it immediately and efficiently. It was no different than outwitting the criminals he fought every night.

_One can never succeed without a thorough plan._

He had to cover everything. Every possible way his plan could work, could fail, or be interrupted by some outside force needed to be painstakingly set. Every way Grayson could react needed to be analyzed and addressed. If he came on too strongly, he could chase Grayson away, maybe even further Grayson's dependence on Father.

And that would not be acceptable.

_One can never succeed without a thorough secondary plan._

If he did begin to scare Grayson and make him close himself off from Damian, he had to make him come back. He practiced apologizing, begging to be forgiven. It was no different than playing a role: the shoulders had to droop, the back had to curl as the chest caved, the weight had to shift, his head had to roll forward, his eyes had to lower. He worked in the mirror, carefully scrutinizing his every position down to the last muscle. He briefly considered asking Pennyworth if he looked pitiful enough, claiming it as research for a case, but decided against it; the old man already knew too much for Damian's liking and he'd be damned if he gave him any more information.

_One can never succeed without trying._

Damian was a Wayne, and let it never be said that Wayne's didn't try their damned hardest at everything they did. Father had taught him well. Grayson had taught him well. His plan was formed and practiced, his script rewritten a thousand times for any possible line Grayson could say. He was ready.

_One will always succeed if one believes they will._

And by god, would Damian succeed.


End file.
